


Sacrifice

by QuidditchSeason1977



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-30 03:46:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8517322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuidditchSeason1977/pseuds/QuidditchSeason1977
Summary: Dean had sacrificed so much for his family, so much more than anyone ever knew. And, y'know what, he deserved to have something he wanted to.This is a very angsty, OOC, AU, version of part of the Pilot from Dean's perspective.Disclaimer: I own nothing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is a very angsty, OOC, AU version of Pilot. I was actually writing something else and then... this happened. So if there are any confusing things said by people, just ignore it. When (if) I finish writing it, then I'll post it and you can read it then and it will all make sense.
> 
> Sooo, yeah. Enjoy.

Dean hadn’t heard from his father for several weeks, which was unusual. John Winchester knew the perils of their job even better than Dean did and wouldn’t miss check ins like he had been for just any reason. Dean had given it a month before he started to get worried. Thinking that maybe John was neck-deep in some back country hunt, maybe a black dog, and couldn’t call in. After a month, that slim hope started to dwindle and Dean began calling around to all of his and John’s friends, thinking that maybe he’d checked in with one of them. So he called around: Bobby Singer, Pastor Jim, Caleb, Joshua, and David, but none of them had heard from him since before Dean had even spoke to him last.

 

So he started to panic, but he was methodical in his panic. He went to the last place he knew for sure that his dad had been and asked around. It sounded as though he’d completed the hunt here about a month and a half ago, then moved on. Nothing about this story stood out to Dean as odd, but he also didn’t have any leads on where John would go next.

 

He travelled around for another month, trying to pick up his dad’s trail through old newspaper reports of hunts, but to no avail. It had now been two and a half months since anyone had heard from John and Dean knew better than anyone that the longer it took to find a person, the more unlikely it was that said person would be found. Dean wouldn’t admit it, even to himself, but he’d started checking morgue reports for a body matching John’s description.

 

When he realised that he was doing that, Dean berated himself for nearly giving up. John would be fine, he always was. He’d turn up in a week or so with some crazy story about a ghost or vampires or something.

 

But two more weeks past, three since John had gone missing, and there was still no sign of him.

 

It was almost Halloween. That meant it was almost the second of November… No way would John be missing for much longer. The Winchesters’ had a tradition for November 2. They were always together and always had mashed potatoes and gravy with steak and a frozen vegetable mix of carrots, peas, and corn. It had been Dean’s mother’s favourite meal. Then they would each have a small slice of plain cheesecake with raspberry sauce drizzled over top. Mary’s favourite dessert. Then they’d all sit around whatever small table they were supplied with in whatever crappy motel room they were calling home in dead silence. John always drank a lot of water on that night (though Dean could remember, when he was much younger, John drinking at least a bottle of Jack Daniels on this night. Then, with no explanation at all, he’d stopped drinking entirely.) and once Dean and Sam had gotten a little older, they were each allowed a bottle of beer. No one spoke until about midnight, when they would all three stand almost in unison and mutter, “goodnight” to each other and proceed to get ready for bed. They all pretended to fall asleep, though no one ever really did. The tradition had changed only a little after Sam had left for Stanford. Dean always called Sam at some point in the morning, just to make sure Sammy was still okay, but other than that there was no difference.

 

Dean wondered if maybe, for some unknown reason, Sam might have heard from their father. This wasn’t the sort of news he wanted to tell Sam over the phone, though, and Dean wasn’t even sure Sam would answer him on a day that wasn’t November 2 (something that caused the area behind Dean’s eyes to burn with suppressed tears for reasons that he didn’t want to consider or face). So, Dean decided that the only option would be to actually go to Stanford and ask Sam himself. Besides, it had been nearly four years since Sam had left for school and Dean hadn’t seen him (except from a distance when Dean could come up with an excuse to drive through Palo Alto) since. He missed the kid.

 

He’d known going in that Sam would have his own life and tried to prepare himself for that, but it still hurt. To see Sam living the normal life that he’d always wanted to, well Dean was happy for him. But to see Sam happily living a life that didn’t include Dean, well that hurt more than Dean was prepared to admit.

 

Dean had intended this trip to be a quick “have a word with Sammy and then leave him to his apple pie life” but there wasn’t a moment all day for Dean to have a word with Sam alone. When he saw Sam walk into a bar with a tall, hot, blonde chick on his arm Dean nearly threw his hands up in disgust. Seriously, what were the odds that the one time Dean wanted to interrupt Sam’s apple pie life would be the (probably) one night that Sam chose to have a social life.

 

Dean went back to the Impala. He’d been following Sam all day on foot, because he knew that Sam would recognise the Impala on sight if he saw it. How could he not? They’d spent their whole childhoods in the backseat of it, after all.

 

Dean figured Sammy and tall, hot blonde chick would be a while at the bar. He set an alarm on his phone and curled up in the backseat to get a few hours of sleep.

 

Dean’s alarm went off at two AM. He turned on the engine to his baby and drove to where he knew Sam lived. He parked a little ways away from Sam’s building. He went to the front door, intending to buzz Sam’s apartment, but stopping when he saw that Sam’s apartment code no longer read “Sam Winchester” in Sam’s precise writing but now read “Sam and Jess” in a woman’s neat and tiny printing. Seriously, it was tiny - Dean almost needed a magnifying glass to read it.

 

In any case, that plan was now out the window. How was he supposed to talk to just Sammy if he’d be waking up the both of them with the buzzer?

 

So Dean went on to the significantly less legal but far more dramatic plan.

 

He climbed up the fire escape and slipped in through one of the windows. He noticed the lack of a salt line and shook his head and muttered, “Sloppy Sammy,” under his breath,

 

Clearly Dean had picked the wrong window, because the door through the small bedroom that was apparently used for storage to the kitchen had beads trailing down it. Dean gave a mental shrug and opened the fridge. After all Dean had done for him as a kid, Sammy could stand to share his beer.

 

It was while Dean was bent over, searching through the fridge, that the attack came. Dean sensed it and was able to get the upper hand on his attacker, regardless of the fact that the attacker had a large metal bat. Dean knew that this was Sam. He’d sparred with him enough as a kid to instantly recognise Sammy’s style. Kid was rusty.

 

Eventually, Dean decided that the fight had gone on for long enough and pinned Sam to the floor. He watched as recognition flooded his younger brother’s face and pushed down the hurt that he felt at how Sam hadn’t recognised Dean by his fighting style. It hurt more than he would admit, even to himself. Guess Sammy’s life here was more important than his life with his family.

 

Now that he knows Sam’s recognised him, Dean decides that it’s safe to speak. “Whoa, easy there tiger.”

 

Sam’s recognition morphed to confusion. “Dean?” Dean gave a short laugh, camouflaging how much Sam’s lack of recognition hurts him. Sam’s face gained a slight tint of anger. “You scared the crap outta me!”

 

“That’s ‘cause you’re outta practice,” Dean said smugly.

 

Sam flipped their positions, pinning Dean to the floor.

 

Dean smiled. “Or not. Get off of me.”

 

Sam got to his feet and then helped Dean to his. Sam, somewhat angrily, said, “What the hell are you doing here?”

 

Dean decides on a smart alack response. That’s pretty par the course for Dean, so he knows that Sammy will know how to handle it. “Well, I was looking for a beer.”

 

Sam spoke again, this time with more anger colouring his tone. “What the hell are you doing here?”

 

Dean recognises that Sammy is done with his jokes and all of that. “Okay. Alright. We gotta talk.”

 

Sam, using his patented “uh, duh” tone that had gotten on John’s nerves so many times growing up, said, “Uh, the phone?”

 

Dean knew the answer to this question already and responded with another question. “If I’d’a called, would you have picked up.”

 

The light from the hallway clicked on, showing tall, hot blonde chick from earlier. Already this isn’t going according to Dean’s plan. Oh well, improvisation was always one of his specialities. Blondie was wearing cropped jeans and a plain white t-shirt, which Dean thought was strange for the time of night, but maybe she’d put on something more when she’d realised that they had company. Whatever, Dean’s really not one to judge.

 

“Sam?” she asked, confused. Dean could respect that.

 

Sam looked like a deer caught in headlights and said, “Jess. Hey. Dean, this is my girlfriend, Jessica.”

 

Dean gave her a good once over. He had to make sure that she was good enough for his baby brother. Even if said brother wasn't really associating with him right now.

 

Jess said in confusion, “Wait, your brother Dean?”

 

Dean counted it as a win that Sammy’s apparently mentioned him at least once to his live-in girlfriend. He moved a little closer to her and said, “You know, I gotta say, you are completely outta my brother’s league. Anyway, I gotta borrow your boyfriend here, talk about some private family business. But, uh, it was nice meeting you.” Dean was a little awkward. Sue him. It's a new situation for him - he’s never had to get rid of one of Sammy’s girlfriends before. Normally, it was the other way around.

 

But Dean was surprised when Jessica said, “It seems to be the night for that.” Dean looked at Sam in confusion.

 

“Dad showed up just a few minutes ago,” Sam said. “Didn’t you know that?”

 

Dean just about collapsed in relief. “No, you sure it’s him?”

 

Dean was sure that question sounded strange to Jessica, who hopefully would never know the truth about the world, but he needed to ask it.

 

Sammy nodded, “Yeah. I’m sure.”

 

There was a hidden layer to it that Dean heard that he was sure Jessica didn't, or at least didn't understand. What Dean understood from that is that it was in fact actually their father.

 

“Well, good,” Dean said awkwardly. “That’s actually what I was gonna talk to ya ‘bout. Hadn’t heard from the old man in ‘bout three months and was worried he’d ended up back at the cabin. But if he’s here then… good. That’s good.”

 

There was an awkward silence between the three of them that Dean tried not to think about. Instead, he thought about how his dad almost definitely knew that Dean was there and had chosen not to come see him. It hurt.

 

After a couple of minutes that felt much longer, Dean rocked back on his heels and said, “Well, guess I’ll just show myself out then,” and turned back to the window and the fire escape.

 

“You know, it wouldn’t kill ya to use the stairs,” Sam said.

 

Dean shook his head. “Dad clearly doesn’t want ta talk. If he did, he’d use this lovely modern-day invention known as a cell phone. I know Dad has one. So d’you, s’matter of fact. Funny, you only seem to remember how to answer it on November 2. Don’t even remember how to on your birthday. Can’t imagine all of the incredibly important things you must be learning here in your wonderful life that drives out that knowledge. But who am I to say? I’m just Dean. Not particularly smart or useful. Just Dean.”

 

The words that Dean had never intended to say pour out of Dean a mile a minute and once he'd started he didn't think he could stop. All he could think was that he was so tired of his family treating him like crap. He was worth something too, even if they didn't see it. Besides, after his outburst, this would probably be the last time he ever heard from or saw Sammy and it would likely be months before John would get up enough nerve to speak to him. So he might as well say it. He might not have ever gotten another chance.

 

“And really, who cares what Dean thinks? As long as Sammy got outta the family business, all’s well. Who cares that I want out? I made round about a thousand sacrifices to make sure you got to finish high school in the same place, but does it matter? No, as soon as Sammy gets what he wants, he’s outta there. Outta the family business and outta the family too, seems like, ‘cept for one day a year. One day outta 365. Really shows what family means to you, huh Sammy?”

 

And then, ‘cause Dean was on a roll now, he started in on his dad. All of the thoughts and regrets and anger and hurt that he'd hidden and bit back over the years just came pouring out.

 

“And I know you’re awkwardly skulking around the corner, Dad, so I’ll say a bit to you too, since you apparently don’t care enough anymore to call every so often. Even a text would be fine, you know. Just enough so that I know ya aren’t dead in some ditch somewhere. But again, who cares how worried Dean’s been? Who cares that I was freaked out when no one had seen or heard from you in like four months? Really, who cares? Apparently neither of you do. I’m starting to think that family meant more to me than it ever did to either of you two.”

 

Dean had run out of steam at that point, chest heaving like he had just run a marathon. Sam looked shell shocked, like he wanted to say something to Dean but wasn't sure what. Poor Jessica looked a little terrified, but she made eye contact with Dean and gave him a nod, like she was saying, “Go for it. Tell ‘em what you’re really thinking.”

 

So Dean did.

 

He was looking at Jessica now, because somehow that was easier than trying to say all of it to Sammy or Dad.

 

“All those towns. All those schools. Always being the new kid. Always being mocked for clothes that don’t fit right, for the family that isn’t perfect, for anything and everything. And I took it, because it made Dad happy, and as long as Sammy was happy I could handle it, but no more! I’m done. This kind of crap stops now. You know, I had a couple a steady girlfriends in some of the towns, girls I really liked, that I could have had more with under different circumstances. Was gonna take Jenny to a winter formal, but we had to move on. We’d already stayed an extra week for Sammy’s school play and Dad was angry enough about it. Breaking it off with her - it hurt more than anything had since… probably since I was about nine. It was a couple of years before I could stand to steady date again. I met Lisa. She was amazing, even more than Jenny, and I really liked her - maybe even loved her. She was amazing. She loved me, too, I think. We went to senior prom together - it was the only prom that I got to go to. We always left before the prom for all the other years and the new schools had already had theirs. I wanted those experiences - wanted to feel normal for a night, ya’know? But Lisa,” Dean shook his head, heart heavy with remembered pain. “She was amazing,” he repeated softly. “I almost stayed in that town - I was already eighteen, so I coulda done it. I probably woulda too, but Dad’s job moved us on, and Sammy needed money for library memberships in every new town, and new shoes, and someone had to look out for that kid. Somehow, that someone almost always ends up being me. So I moved on. Left the girl of my dreams, if you want ta be all chick flicky, for my family. And they never even noticed. It hurt, ya know? I could tell ya all of Sammy’s favorites - books, movies, places, people, probably even classes. I coulda told ya Sammy wanted to be a lawyer long before the kid even knew himself. But could he tell ya any of that ‘bout me? I doubt it.”

 

Sam piped up then. “You don’t read, Dean. Your favorite movie is um…” He trailed off awkwardly, unsure of what he thought of as fact.

 

“Wrong, Sammy,” Dean said, still looking at Jessica. It was still easier. “I do read. For your information, I have a Kindle e-reader that has about a thousand books on it. I scrounged enough to buy it about a year and a half ago. I’m not sure about which book of his is my favorite, but I like Vonnegut. My favorite movie is a tie between the three original Star Wars movies and the three Lord of the Rings movies - the special extended edition only. My favorite place is this little waterfall in the middle of the Rockies. It’s perfect for reading. My favorite people are probably you and Dad, though Jessica’s beatin’ you both right now, ‘cause she’s lettin’ me talk.” Jessica smiled at him, and Dean knew that he read her earlier expression correctly. “My favorite class in high school was English - there was something about dissecting those novels that rocked. ‘Specially Shakespeare - dude rocked for having lived in a time when men wore tights.”

 

Dean had run out of steam again. Now that the initial rush was over, he felt like he’d overstepped his boundaries. He started to feel closed in, and knew that he needed to get out of there. He still had eye contact with Jessica, and she smiles at him, a smile that wasn't filled with pity, but with understanding and with a promise that she would at least get Sam to think about how he had treated Dean. Dean tried to play it cool with just a nod, but he couldn't. He rushed forward and gripped her in a hug, which surprised the both of them. “For the record,” Dean whispered, “I think you’re pretty perfect for Sammy.” Jessica didn't say anything in response, but she gripped his jacket a little tighter for a moment, then they both released. “Right,” said Dean, trying to preserve his dignity. “I’m’a go now.” Then, before anyone could stop him, he headed for the window and the fire escape.

 

He made it out the window, down the fire escape, and had started his baby by the time Sammy and John had made it down the stairs. Sam was ahead of John (no surprise with the legs on that boy) and called for Dean to stop, to just listen, and that they could talk about this, that Dad apparently had big news that he needed to share with the both of them.

 

Dean didn't hear any of it. He was too busy panicking and then peeling out of there. He didn't know where he was going - actually he did. He was going to go to that waterfall in the Rockies. Then, maybe he would head to Bobby’s or Jim’s. Or maybe, and his hands tightened on the steering wheel at this thought, he would go see if Lisa was still open to a relationship. After all, Sam got his chance at a happily ever after, why can't Dean?

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo, yeah. See what I mean? All angsty and never would have ever happened in cannon. Like, ever. Maybe you can think of it like a character study or something.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
